


Incendiary

by Tsume_Yuki



Series: Soulspeak [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Relationships, F/M, Female Sawada Tsunayoshi, M/M, Soulmarks That Work Like A Game Of 'Too Hot Too Cold', Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Xanxus Should Have His Own Warning Label
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's on her arms. Like someone spilled a great big pot of orange and red paint, and the very smallest amount has dotted itself upon Sawada Tsunako's wrists.<br/>On an intellectual level, Tsuna's aware that her markings will grow as she gets physically closer to her soulmate. But she's never seen somebody else with such small markings.</p><p> </p><p>In which the stronger your soulmate is, the brighter the mark. And the closer you get, the more the mark blooms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tsuna

 

 

 

 

It's on her arms.

Like someone spilled a great big pot of orange and red paint, and the very smallest amount has dotted itself upon Sawada Tsunako's wrists.

On an intellectual level, Tsuna's aware that her markings will grow as she gets closer to her soulmate. But she's never seen somebody with such small markings other than on herself and her Mama.

Mama's markings are tiny, tiny orange dots on her shoulders, and if they were smaller, they could probably be mistaken for freckles.

Only, when the loud blond man comes home, those dots breed and grow and spread all down Mama's shoulders and back, like a cape of territorial spots. Mama always wears pretty sundresses whenever the blond man -who's apparently Tsuna's father, according to Mama- comes around.

It's not often, and more times than not, Mama's soulmark remain as tiny little freckles that sit limply on her shoulders.

But it's clear Mama lives for the movement of her dots, of her tiny little dots and the way they streak down her back when the blond man comes home.

Sometimes, Tsuna sits on the porch, staring at the tiny little splashes that sit on the inside of her wrists, wondering just how far away her soulmate lives.

It has to be further away than Tokyo, because Miku-san next door says her husband works in Tokyo and her pretty flower patterns cover half her forearm.

Which means Tsuna's soulmate is further away than Tokyo, perhaps as far away as the blond man goes whenever he leaves Mama. Across an ocean.

It's a daunting thought, but there's one thing Tsuna knows for sure. Every person with a soulmark gets to meet their other half at some point in their life.

So maybe Tsuna's going to go on holiday to another country and they'll meet there, or maybe he'll come here. She quite likes the idea of going to another country though, so when she asks the blond man what countries he visits, she takes note of them.

Because Mama's dots are about the same size as her splashes, so maybe her soulmate lives in the same country the blond man keeps returning to.

So, Tsuna starts learning Italian, she starts learning English and French because they're two big languages in the countries around Italy. She spends hours poring over maps, researching the country. Something stirs at the idea of Italy, focuses on the country.

Almost like a part of her senses this is where her other half is.

 

 

It takes a whole year before Mama agrees to her request to holiday in Italy.

By this point, Tsuna is eight years old, and she's a little more aware of the world around her.

Not only that, but she's made her first friend.

Yamamoto Takeshi has a soulmark as small as hers, a bright red that sits behind his left in is tiny little wisps. Like the last lingering curls of smoke. It's no bigger than Tsuna's little finger, and given that the smoke like markings aren't exactly concentrated, it's not too big of a surprise that they bond over their distant soulmates.

Tsuna likes Takeshi, he's friendly and he smiles a lot, but he's also sharp. He sees things that Tsuna might miss, and while he's not school smart, he isn't stupid. Not that she can really pick and chose her friends.

Her father's Italian blood has shown up in her far more than it did him, and it leaves her vulnerable to all the mean names all the other children can think of. She takes to insulting them right back in Italian, and when Takeshi realizes what she's doing, he begins to learn the language too.

Soon enough, they'll be able to have conversations between each other without having to worry about anyone hearing what they say. Tsuna is not quite fluent in Italian, but she's got a good enough grasp to get them around the country. Mama knows so many phrases too, from a youth spent flirting with her soulmate.

Tsuna still feels uncomfortable calling him her father.

He's a stranger to her, he's just the man that makes Mama's soulmarks grow, that makes the rainfall of dots cascade down her back. Right now though, she doesn't want to spend so much time thinking on the strange man that she should be calling her father.

Instead, Tsuna would very much like to focus on the splatters across her wrists.

They've grown, blooming into wonderful spots of orange paint bleeding red, and they trace the veins that run beneath her skin. She wonders just how big they'll get.

Her Mama always knows when her soulmate is in the country, because the spots dance across her shoulders, and the closer he gets, the more they fall down her back.

Tsuna wonders just how far her paint splatters will grow, if they were migrate up her arms or down her hands, if they will become gloves or sleeves.

Mama takes her up and down all of Italy, and at some points, the paint puddles grow a little bit, and other times they shrink. She was right though, her soulmate is in Italy, and when she learns it's almost time to go home, Tsuna cries big fat tears.

 Because she's so close, they're in the same country now, but the holiday was over and it was time to go back to the other side of the world. She doesn't know when her next opportunity to come here will be, or how long she'll have to wait, and Tsuna doesn't want to be one of those people who meet their soulmate when they're old and grey.

She wants to marry her soulmate like Mama did, only she was going to stick by her soulmate. Not like the blond man, who left all the time. She refused to go months without speaking to her soulmate, without ever being able to hug and kiss him.

Tsuna blushes a little at the thought, but she clings viciously to it.

They will be one of those happy couples somehow, even if she has to get the best grades a student has ever got in Japan, even if she has to get a boring job that pays the greatest amount of money, so that she'd be able to live in Italy. That is exactly what she will do.

So Sawada Tsunako leaves Japan with a heavy heart and a will of iron determination.

 

 

 

 

Two months after Tsuna returns to Japan, a new girl moves to town.

Then, everyone in class gets to witness the first meeting of soulmates.

Kurokawa Hana is in Tsuna's class, and she's quite pretty, with long brown hair that falls in waves, indicating there's some foreign blood in there somewhere. She makes friends quite quickly with the very nice Sasagawa Kyoko, who has never been mean to Tsuna whenever they work together for class.

The thing everyone pays attention to though, is the bright yellow lines that dance up the girl's neck and stretch across her right cheek. They're very bright, the brightest yellow Tsuna has ever seen another person with, and the markings are quite big too. Bigger than anyone else's in class, and the same part of her that told Tsuna her own soulmate was in Italy, seems certain that Hana's other half is in Namimori Primary.

It's proven several hours later, when Kyoko's older brother Ryohei comes racing out of his class to meet his sister, ecstatic about the blue lines that have developed all up his ribs.

With ever step he takes to get closer to the duo, the lines on Kurokawa's face tremble and grow, stretching out until it covers her entire cheek, even as Ryohei's begin creeping up from the collar of his shirt.

Every other child is quiet, for what is perhaps the first time ever, as they all stop and watch the meeting.

Tsuna finds herself stood next to Takeshi, and she can tell the both of them are holding their breaths, waiting to see what will happen. Tsuna wonders if her meeting will be watched by this many people, and he finds herself hoping it is not the case.

Ryohei looks the girl over, something like wonder in his face, and then he bows.

"Extremely good to meet you! I'm Sasagawa Ryohei!"

Kurokawa seems as if she's been hit over the head, and Tsuna bets that getting used to Ryohei's volume will be a unique experience for the girl.

"…Kurokawa Hana. I hope you're not a monkey."

"Huh?"

But Kurokawa grabs hold of his arm, dragging him off to talk, and Tsuna hopes that her soulmate will be as excited, and happy to see her, as what Ryohei was to meet Hana.

"You think ours will be like that?" Yamamoto asks from beside her, wistful brown eyes trailing after the duo, and Tsuna bits her lip, hefting up the bucket of baseballs she had dropped. Takeshi takes the hint, and they head over to the pitch, the male having once again dragged Tsuna into helping him practice.

"Nope. Yours will be better, and I hope mine will be."

 

 

 

 

Tsuna is nine years old when it happens.

She wakes up freezing, with cold chilling deep into her bones, making itself home, setting deep into her body and refusing to leave. She's completely still, unable to so much as twitch her finger, and she can feel the ice hollowing into her very soul, curling up and refusing to leave.

She can't breathe, can't draw oxygen into her lungs and every time she tries her ribs scream from the pressure, and her throat is dry and raw and she can't even scream.

Panic flares to life in her chest, and the raging desire to live - _I haven't met my soulmate yet, this can't happen, it can't_ \- burns in her body.

And then, it's almost as if it all explodes outwards.

The room is bathed in a warm orange glow, and Tsuna can breath, drawing in the air with sharp, rattling breaths. Her limbs are quivering, shaking and she tries to sit up and completely fails at it.

She doesn't know what just happened, is not sure if she even wants to, only that has never happened before and whatever it was nearly killed her.

A moment passes, and Tsuna is able to stumble out of her bed, staggering over to the mirror to see if there is any visible damage. The girl she sees staring out at her is certainly not what she had been expecting.

Tears are frozen to her skin, right by the corner of her eyes, and her eyelashes as dusted with ice, sparkling in the glow of the orange flame that sits on her forehead. It's not burning her, and Tsuna doesn't understand, but she does know that whatever that flame is, it stopped the ice from freezing her to death.

That flame, the warmth that sits in her stomach, saved her life, and she laughs almost hysterically under her breath.

But what's important here is that there is something wrong.

There's ice, creeping ice that had tried stealing her away from the world, and she has no idea how it got in, and oh god, what if it happens again? What is the ice tries to hurt her again and she doesn't manage to call up the strange flame again?

Looking at the orange flame on her forehead -such a contrast to the pale blue of her lips- Tsuna sucks in a breath and attempts to remember every damn thing she can about this feeling, about how the flame makes her feel, because she won't forget it.

She won't forget how to use it because it seems to be her only line of defence. She'll master how to use it, and how to protect herself with it.

And then, when she's as protected as she can get, she'll figure out just what the ice was, where it came from and why it had come for her. She'll protect herself, and her Mama if she has to. There's clearly going to be no father to do it for her.

With one last look at the flame, Tsuna goes to bed.

 

 

 

She doesn't notice her rust orange splatters are now grey for three days.

White means a coma. Black means death.

 

 

 

 

She doesn't know what grey means.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life goes on. Tsuna trains the pretty orange flame, and Takeshi is the only person she ever tells about it.

When they turn ten, Takeshi discovers he has a flame too, a blue one. Tsuna spend the next three months wondering if the flame colour has anything to do with the soulmarks. Does everyone have one of these strange flames?

Maybe. Something to look into later. She's learnt how to fight with the flame though, had to, given that strange men in black suits came after her the second one spotted the orange on her forehead. Takeshi took up the sword once he learnt of this incident, much to his father's pride.

Baseball fell to the wayside, and Tsuna feels a bit bad for that. But after six years of training with the blade, Takeshi's gotten really good, so good he can beat his dad in under a minute when they're fighting seriously.

And Takeshi's dad is really good with a sword.

 

Now, the two of them are seventeen, on their final year of Namimori High, where Hibari Kyōya rules with an iron fist and vicious tonfa.

It's good though, he makes an excellent sparring partner, and doesn't seem to mind when they sit themselves down on the roof with him, as long as he gets a fight at some point in the day. Tsuna would tentatively call them friends, or as close to friends as someone can get with Hibari Kyōya. She almost feels sorry for whomever ends up as Hibari's soulmate.

Almost, because she knows the older teen would protect what was his with all the power he possesses. A not inconsiderable amount.

Then Reborn happens, and Takeshi has taken a week off to go to a sword fighting thing his old man has booked him in for, and Tsuna finds out she going to become the boss of a Mafia Family.

That the Flame on her head is a representation of the Sky, that she is the Sky and she needs to collect her Guardians.

Reborn commends her on already gaining a Cloud -Hibari, apparently- and when Tsuna asks what Flame blue represents, the tiny hitman is even more pleased to learn she has a Rain too.

She fights Gokudera, and he becomes her Storm and her subordinate and her friend, and then Takeshi returns.

And wisps of blue smoke curl all across Gokudera's chest, visible with the shirt he leaves half unbuttoned, stretching across his collarbones and so bold against those necklaces and Takeshi's neck is covered in red smoke and he's beaming.

She liked to think otherwise, but Tsuna always accepted that she'd probably be bitter if Takeshi ever met his soulmate before her.

But she's not.

She's just so happy for him, because really, if anyone deserves a chance at happiness, it's her best friend.

 

 

 

 

It's after Mukuro, after she has a Lightning and a Sun and perhaps she might even talk Mukuro into becoming her Mist one day when she gets him out of that awful prison. It's after Mafia Land and Bianchi and after lots of training.

Or perhaps it's somewhere between them.

Either way, one day, Tsuna looks down at her wrists and sees that paint splatters are orange again.

She drops to her knees, completely ignoring the way Gokudera panics and Takeshi comes racing over to see what's going on.

But Tsuna's so absorbed in the fact there's colour again.

For years, for so many years, they'd been grey, and she'd accepted her lot. While part of her had held out hope for them to turn back, another had accepted she wasn't going to meet her match. That the dabs on her wrist would remain forever grey, and they'd be like that for the rest of her life.

Whatever had happened to her soulmate, part of Tsuna seems inclined to believe that it was something to do with that ice that attacked her.

She's never spoken a word of that incident, and as it's never repeated, she's seen no need to. The fact it happened at the same time her marks went grey, well, that can't be coincidence, can it?

When Gokudera -bless his heart and soul, he's so caring, certainly what Takeshi deserves- asks what's wrong, Tsuna just shakes her head, informing the duo she is quite okay and they should really speed up if they want to beat the school bell.

Takeshi senses her mood, and starts needling his other half, laughing and smiling when Gokudera's explosive temper makes another appearance. It's all bark and no bite with the two of them though, and Tsuna loves watching them interact.

She loves all her Guardians, each one of them are special to her, and she will never be more thankful for Reborn barging his way into her life.

 

She's sat in class when she finally notices, and perhaps she should start paying more attention to her wrists, because the paint splotches are getting bigger. almost as big as when she was in Japan.

In fact, there's even a handful of new dots, they're multiplying down towards her hands, thick bracelets of dark orange splotches. The little flickers of red and even more evident now, she hadn't realized more colour could seep in.

But then again, when Gokudera had started Flame training with them, they'd been shocked to discover he carried several different types, and whenever he used them, Takeshi's red soulmark would intertwine with the relevant colour.

So it seems her Sky carries a little bit of Storm in him.

Tsuna feels giddy, as the day passes, the marks get bigger and bigger, until they're halfway up her hand, so bright and bold all her classmates are staring and whispering.

Excitement stirs in Tsuna, but she forces herself to pay attention to Reborn after school, especially when he wears such a worried frown on his face.

If there was one thing she'd learnt so far, it was that when Reborn was cautious about something, she needed to pay give it her utmost attention.

 

 

 

 

They meet when one of them attempts to attack Lambo.

Lambo's a brat, Tsuna's not going to lie about it.

But he has potential. And she still remembers being the weak little girl laid in bed, held tight by the ice that had almost snuffed the life right out of her. She hadn't had anyone to protect her, she'd had to grow strong with the constant threat lingering on her back, with the possibility of the ice returning. She won't allow the same thing to happen to Lambo.

He'll grow strong, sure.

It won't be while he's under constant threat though.

Tsuna's fire blazes in her gloves as she stares up at the Varia, the independent assassination squad of the Vongola. All males, she notes. In fact, she's the only female present, given that her Guardians are all males. Hibari's absent, given that crowding makes him violent, and she's still lacking a Mist.

But, she trusts her Guardians, and if push comes to shove, she's pretty certain that she can cover their retreat. They are the best apparently, quality killers, and she has no marker on where she falls on the Flame scale of power.

The group are singling out her Guardians, sizing them up regarding who has what ring, and the fire in Tsuna's palms dies down a bit when something else catches her attention.

The gloves down cover her fingers, stopping just as the digits start protruding from her hand. It's why she can see the dark orange splodges -the red's creeping in fast, almost in equal parts to the orange now- that whirl up the length of each finger. The splatters stretching up the skin of her arm, continuing to grow past her elbows, has Tsuna's breath catching in her throat.

The marks grew in Italy, the Vongola, the Varia, it's painfully clear.

And orange, orange is the Sky Flame.

Her soulmate, is her opposition.

Tsuna sucks in a breath, igniting the fire further and well aware that it caught every last splatter on her forearms.

Only Takeshi and his Rain counterpart seem to have noticed, and they both look grim. That doesn't help the situation for Tsuna, and she can feel the tension mounting in the air as the markings continue to march up her arms, disappearing beneath the sleeve of her shirt.

Reborn whispers something under his breath, but Tsuna's much more focused on the man that pushes his subordinate out of the way, striding forwards and staring down at her edgy Guardians.

There's scarring on his face, neck, and the patch of chest she can see. There's also neon orange splashes reaching all the way up to his collarbones.

Tsuna knows with sudden certainty, that her own meeting with will not end as happily as Takeshi's did.

 

 

Brown meets red.

 

 


	2. Xanxus

 

 

 

 

Xanxus is six when his mother introduces him to his father.

He's awkward, gangly in the way that comes with being a growing boy who hasn't quite managed to eat his fill. The other kids flinch away when the meet his gaze, intimidated by the bright red of his eyes, by the sneer that curls at his lips.

They all looked down on him because of his Ma, but Xanxus soon taught them how to shut their trap.

He comes home with bleeding knuckles and a few bruises of his own, but he won, and that's what matters. His Ma is too busy to patch him up, but Xanxus has already gotten used to doing that for himself, wrapping up the split skin with the freshly washed bandages, and he spends a good deal of time frowning down at his hands.

When he was fighting, he swears, he saw a flicker of fire in his palm. He's heard all the stories of superpowers, of powers regular humans don't get to have. But he has it.

He summons the fire not five minutes later.

Twenty minutes later, his mother is presenting him to an older man who calls him son and wraps him up in the softest scarf Xanxus has ever touched.

 

Life picks up from there.

 

 

 

He's the bastard child of the Ninth. But he's been claimed, and that's what's important, that's what Xanxus clings to.

All the scum that used to laugh at him scuttle out the way when he walks the streets now, now that he has the Mafia hanging over his shoulders like an imposing big brother. He's got three of those now, though they know well enough to keep their noses out of his business. Which is good.

Xanxus was practically a street kid until recently. The idea of any of them trying to control his life, of trying to shackle him to something, has his hackles rising something fierce, so they all back off. He attends his lessons, he learns his languages and he learns to shoot. They have no other reason to bother him, so Xanxus is left to his own devices. He flourishes in this environment, grows smarter and stronger, he takes to the Mafia life like a duck to water, like a pig to mud, like a bird to the sky. This is where he belongs, and he just knows, deep in his bones, that he will own it.

Xanxus is eight when his Ma dies. Influenza his father tells him. Xanxus knows influenza doesn't leave needle pinpricks on a person's wrists.

He stands in front of the mirror in his room that night, staring at the bright orange that decorates his chest. The little markings, like blood splatters, appeared a year ago, which means there's seven years between him and his soulmate.

Seven years, he can deal with that.

Frederico's soulmate is twenty years younger than him, only born four years ago. It's not uncommon for Mafioso males to end up with significantly younger soulmates.

It's just the way it has work has always worked, you establish yourself first, get a wife second.

Seven years is okay, Xanxus won't have to wait too long.

Still though, the orange dusting his chest is tiny -how far away is his soulmate?-, a small collection, right over his heart. Cliché, but he's not going to complain.

Massimo's soulmate is already dead, having died in a shootout not three minutes after they met. They were only a year apart, and according to Frederico, it hit the middle brother hard.

Xanxus has no intention of ever having that kind of disappointment visiting his doorstep. He increases his time in the shooting range, to the point he has to be escorted out for meals.

It's through this he eventually meets Squalo, and learns of the Varia. He's fourth in line for the title of Boss, he knows his chances are slim.

But the Varia, it presents an opportunity.

 

 

 

Massimo dies when he is ten.

 

Frederico goes missing when he is eleven.

 

They find his skeleton not long after Xanxus turns twelve.

 

 

 

Xanxus is sixteen and on the verge of breaking, his entire world crumbling down, when the blood splatters on his chest bloom bigger, the size of his fingernails instead of the sugar granules they were before.

He tears out of the mansion, spends the whole week searching up and down the country in a demented game of too hot, too cold.

But he doesn't find them in time, and the orange retreats back to the same size as it has always been, and he loses himself again in that recently acquired knowledge.

He'd been looking for new idea for his Flames of Wrath, sure the old man was hiding something away in those diaries of his. Xanxus was Quality, he was the head of the Varia, sneaking a look at the old man's books was nothing.

Only, suddenly it wasn't.

He's not who he thought he was, again, and his whole world is crumbling and he's never going to inherit the Vongola -Massimo dead, Frederico dead and Enrico is the only one they've got left now- because it's all been a lie. How he kept the Flames in until he got back to Varia HQ, Xanxus doesn't know.

But half the Eastern Wing goes up in flames that night.

The coup is planned, and Xanxus knows he can trust the leaders of each division, knows he has their loyalty.

Yet, one of the small recruits tattles, because the old man -not his father, never his father- is waiting for him.

It’s bloody, and it's violent and it's ever emotion that's burning up Xanxus' organs right now, expressed on the physical plane.

Then the Zero Point Breakthrough happens, and Xanxus feels the ice closing up around him, encasing him from all sides. It steals the breath from his lungs, it chills the blood racing through his body, and he's losing oxygen as he freezes over.

The last thing he sees is the liar's face, and it stokes the anger inside Xanxus to greater heights.

 

 

 

Cool droplets of water drip down the curve of his muscles, and Xanxus lays on the floor, just enjoying the fact he can breathe again.

Zero Point Breakthrough is awful, and he'd only wish it upon his worst enemy.

It sucks for the old man, but he is no longer frozen, no longer the shame-filled ice that is kept hidden in the basement.

No one ever comes in here, he's been between conscious and unconscious for the past year and no one has noticed. The Ninth has never noticed the fact that his soulmark has slowly been melting the ice, fighting it.

Whatever Sky is on the other end of that mark has certainly done him a favour.

One arm reaching out to support himself, Xanxus pushing down on the limb, ignoring the biting pain that zings up the muscles, ignoring the ice-burn that stretches across all his skin.

He won't walk away from this without any scars, that much is obvious.

The ones on his face are blistering, and it doesn't help that the pained expression he wears pulls at them. But Xanxus is Quality, has always been Quality, and he'll pull through. He needs to find out what is going on, what he has missed, he needs to get back in contact with the Varia. He'll worry about his soulmark when he knows what the current situation is.

With one last huff, Xanxus staggers to his knees, summons up his Flame, and heads for the door.

 

 

 

Enrico died while he was on ice.

And suddenly, hilariously, the Vongola has no bloodline left with three dead and one adopted. So they trace back on the tree, and Xanxus plots.

 

 

 

Every country the plane passes over is noted. Even though his soulmark only continues to grow.

He can feel the foreign energy now, the untainted Sky Flames that make up the colouring of his mark. Maybe if he had never been exposed to Zero Point, maybe if he'd not had to rely on the dormant energy running through the orange stains of his skin to break free, then he'd never have known.

But now he's sensitive to it, now he can feel that energy lingering in the mark, growing as he grows closer to the other.

Is it pure coincidence that the closer Japan becomes, the more the mark grows. He'd checked on it mere minutes ago in the bathroom, and it was still growing, hadn't show a hint of stopping or shrinking, as it would should they pass the current location of his soulmate.

No, it's looking more and more likely that his soulmate is in Japan.

He ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach, pushes it down and focuses on the fact he'll be able to get two birds for one bullet. He's not Vongola blood, he doesn't have the famed intuition.

But then again, he should have expected fate to spit in his face.

Why would she change the pattern now?

 

 

 

The Sawada brat is his soulmate. Xanxus knows before he even steps forwards, knows those flames almost as well as he knows his own.

The only pleasure he gets out of this is that Iemitsu is going to have a heart attack.

It's not bad enough he has to fight the girl for the title, even though he knows with certainty that he will crush her. She's hasn't grown up like he has, she doesn't know the Mafia like he does.

She wouldn't taint those orange freckled hands -orange and red, Flames of Wrath- with blood like he has. He can see it in her eyes.

 

She's weak.

 

 

 

Only, it turns out, she isn't.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He finds her after the fiasco with Arcobaleno. They've both been ignoring the elephant in the room, and he doesn't know about things on her end, but the one time Levi had dared to breath a word of her, Xanxus had shot him.

He's not good right now, but he's certainly in a better place than before.

 

She's sitting on the edge of her school roof, legs dangling over the side and watching her Cloud Guardian awkwardly escort her female Mist home. It's a sickening display, right up until they Cloud breaks off to go and beat someone up. That's much more to Xanxus' tastes.

"Trash," he begins, stubbornly ignoring how awkward it feels to call his soulmate that. But she's the Vongola Decimo before she's his soulmate, and Xanxus recognises that, in the same way she acknowledges him as the Varia Boss over the splatters that stain her hands.

Sawada Tsunako looks over her shoulder at him, long brown hair falling around her face as she pats at the free space beside her with one hand. An open invitation she clearly doesn't expect him to accept.

For that reason alone Xanxus' legs eat up the distance between them, dropping onto the ledge to sit beside her as he looks out on the school that took so much damage during the Ring Battles.

Funny how quickly it was all put back together.

"What brings you here, Xanxus?"

He'd feel irritated, furious that she used his name, were it not for the fact she sounds so damn tired now. Understandable, considering the amount of pressure, the amount of stress that she's been under these past few days.

Some people just aren't cut out for this kind of life, but Sawada's been thrown into it anyway.

"You, Trash."

There's no point in lying to her, she'd be able to tell with that hyper intuition of hers anyway. Sawada raises a confused brow, head tilting to a side with genuine curiosity.

"Me?" She repeats hesitantly, looking up at him with big brown eyes, nothing like the serious narrowed amber that gleam when she'd fighting.

Snorting, Xanxus looks back out over the suburban horizon that was Namimori. Truly it was tragic that the next head of the Vongola was from such a quiet, sleepy little town.

"These mean nothing to you then?"

Xanxus asks, gesturing to the orange splotches that decorate his torso, visible through the half buttoned shirt. If he'd left it like that so he'd be able to draw Sawada's attention to it at some point, then so what.

He needs answers, so many things had fallen through in his life, he's not going to be surprised if the whole soulmate thing turns out to be another one of them.

"I figured you didn't want anything to do with me," Sawada breathes, though her eyes are round and wide as they dip to the marks on his chest, surprised.

Really, he didn't have much choice, his ability to ignore the mark disappeared within Zero Point, when her Flames were the ones to free him, even if over such a distance.

Hell, had she been in Italy at the time, Xanxus is pretty damn sure the ice would have melted sooner.

"I don't fail at things, even this soulmate crap."

Sawada blinks, before she turns back to looking out across the town. Xanxus catches the smile that lifts the corners of her lips though.

"So, a date then?"

"Tch, I'll pick you up tomorrow."

 

 

 

He was right, Iemitsu threw a fit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ten years come and go.

Tsuna officially ascends to Vongola Decimo, moving to Italy.

Unfortunately, as soon as Iemitsu's little apprentice is ready to take over the CEDEF, he too retires to the country, much to Xanxus' annoyance. The two of them constantly butt heads, and he knows it infuriates the man when his daughter instantly takes his side without question.

Xanxus won't lie, even now he still takes pleasure from such a fact.

He is still very much the boss of the Varia, and he still rules it with an iron fist. If he leaves the failures alive after one bad mission, well, it can be explained away as an order from the Decimo. Even he has someone he has to listen to.

Though he still shoots one of the Storm Squad when they dare to say he's whipped.

Tch, Tsuna does not rule their relationship. Their relationship is one of equal understanding.

Xanxus could never put up with a pushover, but nor could he ever deal with someone attempting to chain him down with commands. When it comes to work, Tsuna gets very little say in how the Varia is run, just the secure knowledge that they are loyal to the Vongola, and will always look out for its best interests. Every so often she'll send down her Rain Guardian with a job request, but that is the extent of their interaction at work.

Home is a different matter.

They spawn only one kid, and that's fine with both of them.

Aurelio is born with Xanxus' crimson eyes and blonde hair, a throwback from Primo it seems. He looks almost exactly like the first Vongola boss, so much so that it almost manages to make Xanxus feel uncomfortable.

Aurelio is all they need; Xanxus has never been fond of children -though it appears quite different when it's your own child, though he doesn't want to take the risk of not liking another- and Tsuna is kept so busy by her job she'd no doubt feel guilty about being unable to spend sufficient time with any other offspring.

It doesn't matter, Aurelio adores the both of them, and they quite frankly adore him.

 

Tsuna had once told him that their relationship wasn't the picture perfect creation she'd envisioned as a child. But, that what they had going, was good.

 

Xanxus is inclined to agree.

 

 


End file.
